


I wish I could give you my love and my soul (but inside my chest there is nobody home)

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Humor, M/M, Meet-Ugly, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, clint is giggling in the background throughout the entire fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: the ‘i always sit on this seat but the subway is particularly crowded today and you’re sitting in my seat but i’m having a bad day and i want my seat back, so i sat on your lap and now we’re both pissed off, so you’ll just have to deal with it’ AU





	I wish I could give you my love and my soul (but inside my chest there is nobody home)

**Author's Note:**

> ladies n gentlemen,,,,, i am back with an unrealistic prompt thats only written for the sake of awkward sexual tension  
> enjoy! x  
> -completely unedited so feel free to point out any mistakes  
> -also sorta inspired by a sterek fic that i read ages ago on here but i can't find it anymore rip  
> -kudos n comments r always appreciated  
> -title is from animal by the cab bc i suck at titles haha

Steve’s not a child. He isn’t. He’s a 28 year old mature adult who’s able to realize when he’s in the wrong and when he should back away from something. This scenario is not a prime example of mature behavior. 

“Excuse me,” a man says. Steve looks up, and, shit, If he wasn’t pissed as hell, he would take the time to admire the stranger’s features. Sharp cheekbones and fluffy brown hair. Steel gray eyes and soft pink lips. Except, Steve is pissed as hell, so he just glares at the man. “That’s my seat.”

Steve thinks he’s mistaken the train for a time machine and that he’s been magically transported back to elementary school, “your seat?”

“Yes.” The man glares right back at Steve. 

“Fuck off.” Steve says, already shifting his eyes back to the book he’s been pretending to read for the better part of the last thirty minutes, hoping the stranger would leave him alone, “I was here first.” 

“Come on, I’ve had the worst day and I really just want sit in my seat right now, so I kinda need you to get up.” 

“There are no other seats.” Steve rolls his eyes and then looks around at the crowded train to prove his point. 

“Exactly. And that’s my seat. So that means I have the right to sit here more than you.”

“I sat here three stops ago, buddy, there is no ‘ _your seat_ ’.” 

“Okay fine,” The man smirks, “so you’ve sat here for a long time, that means it’s my turn. Move.”

Steve doesn’t care if he’s being an asshole. The stranger’s not the only one who’s had a bad day. So, he says, “Nope,” and pops the P for good asshole-ry measure. 

The man groans and looks around till his eyes meet a nearby passenger who’s been watching the entire exchange with an amused grin. “Hey, Clint! You’re here everyday, tell this guy that this is my seat and that I sit here everyday.” 

The guy who’s presumably Clint, looks at Steve, and confirms what the man is saying, “It’s his seat.” 

If the man can bring other people into this, then Steve’s allowed to be a bit childish, too. “I don’t see his name on it.” 

“Fine,” the man says, and, turning a little, he grabs his backpack and opens the zipper to grab a green board marker. He then proceeds to lean over Steve and scrawl his name on the chair. 

“Well, Bucky,” Steve says, shifting his body so he can read, “That is vandalism.” 

Bucky groans, “It isn’t.” Then leans over again so he can wipe the name with his hand, leaving a little green smudge. “That was just a board marker, and I was only trying to prove a point.”

Steve gives him a smile that’s too sweet to be genuine, “Good for you. I’m still not moving.” He honestly doesn’t know what he expects to happen after that. The whole ordeal has been the strangest encounter Steve’s had to deal with, anyway. So, Steve doesn’t know what to expect because it’s not like he argues with hot strangers about seats everyday, but Steve knows enough about proper train etiquette to realize that sitting on stranger’s laps is definitely not how you deal with it. 

But that’s exactly what the man— Bucky, does. He moves, and for a glorified second, Steve thinks he’s gonna walk away. But, no, moves and plops himself in the middle of Steve’s lap, almost to the point where he's straddling Steve.

Steve, as expected, splutters, “What the fuck?!” He hears Clint suppressing giggles, and honestly. What the fuck?

Bucky’s entire face turns red, but his voice steady and stubborn when he says, “What?” 

“Are you crazy?” 

“No. I’m just tired and want my seat. You’re the one who wouldn’t get up.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, “I didn’t expect you’d sit on my fucking lap.” 

“Well, if you’re so angry about it,” the teasing smirk is back, “then feel free to get up and move to another seat.” 

The stubborn part of Steve, the part that used to get him beat up relentlessly when he was a pile of bones and skin, kicks in. If the guy’s not moving, then neither is he. And the both of them shut up, so Steve’s almost okay with it, until Bucky shifts and pulls up his phone from his back pocket. 

Steve doesn’t know why, but he almost feels offended, “What are you doing?”

“Um,” Bucky saids, sounding adorably confused, “Looking at this video of a dog. His owner is playing Wii, like the tennis game and—“

Steve is almost intrigued by that, and he almost wants to ask Bucky if he can see the video, but why is he doing it on— “On my lap?” 

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Bucky is wearing an amused grin, “Make conversation?” 

“Well-, I didn’t say, I mean,” Steve splutters eloquently. 

Bucky laughs loudly, his mouth forming an obnoxious O as his body moves on Steve’s lap, which- oh.  _Oh._ Steve needs that to stop right this second, so he holds Bucky’s shoulders to still him, then drops his hands just as fast.

 _“Ooooh._ Nice. We’re making friends,” Bucky smirks, “So, what’s your name?”

“We’re not making friends,” Steve glares at Bucky, “I just s-“

“Okay. Fine. We’re making acquaintances? Still need your name for that.”

Steve relents, “Steve,” 

“Nice meeting you, Stevie,” Bucky says, grinning, as if there couldn’t be anything funnier than Steve’s constant frustration. He even sticks his hand out for Steve to shake.

“What the fuck?” Steve says for the second time that hour. Regardless to say, he doesn't shake Bucky’s hand. 

He doesn’t know what to do at this point, because it just makes Bucky laugh again, which makes Bucky move on Steve’s lap, which just. Fuck. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” Bucky asks, looking adorably confused like he has no right to. 

“Rocking,” Steve knows his entire face is red. What is up with today. 

Bucky looks down at his lap, up at Steve’s face, and back down at where Steve is actually kind of getting hard. He grins sheepishly, “Sorry, pal. That part wasn’t on purpose.” 

“Right, because you completely thought out the process of you sitting on a stranger’s lap.”

“Hey, you try spending six hours with your homophobic family, then having a stranger take your seat when you just want to go home and relax.” Bucky says, and Steve actually feels bad for him, “I’m not exactly running on common sense, here.” 

Steve snorts, either way. “Yeah, well, I just had a random guy sit on my lap, so that’s probably not fun for me either.” 

“Really?” Bucky raises a teasing eyebrow, and eyes Steve’s crotch where he’s almost, almost, back to being soft again, “You sure you’re not having fun?” 

Steve flushes, indignant. “Fuck off. I’m a bisexual man and you’re an attractive guy and you’re sitting on my lap.” 

“You said I was being an ass!” Bucky laughs, kind of rocking on Steve’s body again, but this time, he’s not so sure he minds. Until he remembers they’re in public, and wow that old lady is definitely staring at them. He puts his hands on Bucky’s shoulder again, but doesn’t move them even after Bucky stills. 

“Well, I mean, your ass is partially the reason my body’s reacting that way.” Steve winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. Nice going, Steve. 

Bucky, however, doesn’t seem to find that the most cringe-worthy ever said because he just starts laughing all over again. He opens his mouth to say something, but whatever he’s started saying gets lost in the loud crack of the PA announcing the next stop. Steve wonders if he’s ever gonna hear the thought because Bucky says, “oh. That’s my stop. I have to go.”

Steve tries not to look disappointed and tells himself that at least Bucky will get off his lap now, but the thought just makes him more disappointed. Bucky must be a mindreader or something, because he looks down at Steve and asks, “Do you think I can talk to you again, in probably nicer circumstances?”

“Um,” Steve attempts to keep his grin in control, but judging by the way Bucky’s own answering smile is so unbelievably wide, Steve assumes he’s not doing such a good job, “Yeah.” 

Okay, so whatever. Steve is not always a 28 year old mature adult who’s able to realize when he’s in the wrong and when he should back away from something. But, hey, he's pretty sure he's got himself a date. Being childish pays off.


End file.
